A Perfect Stranger
by Aussiegirl41
Summary: Laura and Bill meet for the first time. A series of drabbles/ficlets. A/U.
1. Chapter 1

Laura nudged her chair closer to the wall-mounted heater and took a sip of her wine, letting the alcohol spread additional warmth throughout her frigid body.

Her travel agent had promised tropical weather for her Leonis vacation.

She looked up when more cool air swirled through the restaurant as a new patron made his entrance.

He stood in the doorway, juggling a book and a bunch of flowers between his hands while removing his jacket.

Smiling sadly, she tried to remember the last time a man had given her flowers-but depressingly couldn't. A married man with a prominent job would never be able to offer his lover such a simple gift.

The restaurant's owner, who'd asked her to call him Joe, checked his bookings before escorting the man through the maze of tables and chairs.

They stopped at her table.

Without a word, the man lowered himself into the chair opposite.

"Would you like to start with a drink, sir?" Joe asked.

She watched, wide eyed, as her new fellow diner glanced over at her glass.

"I'll join the lady in a wine. Perhaps you could bring us a bottle of Libran red?"

His voice was low, and just a little rough.

Joe bowed his head and bustled off, leaving her to gape at her companion.

"Oh, these are for you," he announced, passing her the flowers.

Even though this was obviously some sort of mistake, she couldn't resist accepting the flowers; burying her nose in amongst the just-opening buds to breathe in the floral bouquet for a moment.

Bewildered, she met his gaze.

His eyes were passionately intense, and just a little sad.

"I hope you weren't waiting long," he apologised with a smile.

His smile was sincere, and just a little uncertain.

Without thinking, she smiled back.


	2. Table Manners

Laura stared at the mysterious man who'd just joined her at the restaurant's table.

His face was an interesting combination: a nose that had been broken somewhere along the line, puckered scarred skin on his cheeks, and the clearest, bluest eyes she'd ever seen. Streaks of grey were noticeable in his close-cropped hair, highlighted because of the plain black sweater he wore.

Curiously, despite her bemusement at his presence, she wasn't the least bit fearful of him.

"Commander?"

They both looked up to see a young man wearing a Colonial uniform by their table. He snapped off a salute that her new guest expertly returned.

"It's an honour," the boy stuttered.

The 'Commander' gave her a silent apology with his eyes before standing to engage the youngster in conversation. The young man was clearly awestruck and she watched, almost awestruck herself, as the Commander made him feel at ease.

"Thank you, Commander Adama," the boy said after they'd shook hands and bid their farewells.

"Sorry about that," the man she now knew as Commander Adama said as he took his seat again.

"You're in the Fleet?"

"I'm on shore leave."

Before she could question him further as to why he thought they had a date, a waiter arrived to take their dinner order.

Commander Adama drew a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles from his shirt pocket and perched them on the end of his nose to read the menu. She felt the glasses softened his features.

"I already know what I want. You?" he prompted.

What would happen if she ordered and his real date arrived?

Did she want to dine with him?

Was she so desperate for company?

The book he'd arrived with lay by his elbow. She read its title, and that was enough for her to reply, "Yes."


	3. Table Talk

A waterfront restaurant wasn't so practical when unseasonably chilly weather hit. The thick plastic sheets that draped down the side of the balcony offering views of the breaking surf were flapping wildly as they made a valiant effort to protect diners from the blustery coastal winds.

A waiter hovered, ready to take her and her unexpected, but for reasons unknown, not unwelcome, companion's orders.

"Could I have a few more minutes, please?" she asked, stalling.

"The seafood here is superb," he commented.

"You're from Leonis?" she asked, curious to know more about this Commander Adama.

"Caprica originally. But I've visited Leonis every year for the past seven. I'm due to retire soon, and somehow I ended up here, trying to decide what I'm then going to do with myself."

"Sounds familiar," she murmured.

She'd come on vacation to make tough decisions. Unfortunately, after three days, she was still no closer to that goal.

"This is your first visit?" he asked before she could muse any further. "You live in Caprica City?" he guessed.

She thought she was dressed casually, but maybe she still had that annoying air of sensible Caprican politician which she couldn't seem to be able to rid herself of.

"I'm thinking of resigning," she blurted out. "My boss and I just don't seem to see eye to eye on anything of late."

He chuckled. "I know how that feels."

"You're obviously well-respected. That boy," she reminded him of the young boy he'd spoken to regarding the Fleet earlier.

He grunted and stared into his glass. "The Admiralty isn't interested in the opinions of an old man."

"I am," she assured him. Then, she flushed and hurriedly added, "Not that you look old."

He met her gaze and for the first time that night, she felt completely warm.


	4. Unfair Advantage

"Are you ready to order?" Commander Adama asked.

Laura shook her head and licked her lips nervously.

For the third time, the Commander sent away the waiter who, as he moved off to serve another customer, cast an impatient frown in her direction.

"I have a confession, and I have no idea how to say it, so I guess I'll just come right out and…" She was babbling. She never babbled.

Her mysterious companion gazed across at her speculatively. She felt a shiver run through her which had nothing to do with the cold.

Taking a deep breath, hoping she wouldn't look as foolish as she felt, she admitted, "I don't know you."

He stared into the bottom of his glass, tilting it and thoughtfully swirling the wine around for a moment. Then, taking a small sip, he eyed her over its lip.

"Of course not. That's the idea of a first date."

"But, Commander—"

"Bill. My first name is Bill."

"Bill," she repeated, testing it on her tongue. It suited him; a short, strong, masculine name. It wasn't modern, or pretentious. He didn't seem the modern or pretentious type.

A small band started playing in the corner of the room, distracting her. She swung around, wistfully remembering Cheryl listening to that song over and over.

"Would you like to dance, Laura?"

She turned back, meeting his penetrating gaze with ease now. How did he know her name? Who was he?

So many questions, yet instead she asked, "You can dance?"

He stood and held out his hand, palm up. After a long silent moment, she placed her hand in his. Another tremor ran through her when he lifted it to his mouth and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. Then, she let him lead her to the dance floor.


	5. Dinner Dance

Laura allowed Bill Adama to lead her out onto the dance floor, which was fast becoming crowded. It seemed the band, who had just started playing in the corner of the restaurant, were well known to the locals of this small costal town, and many patrons were already up on their feet.

He ignored the fast tempo of the song and pulled her into the circle of his arms for a leisurely waltz, her body instantly moulding against his naturally.

Soon they slowed even more, until they were just swaying, barely even dancing.

Once she pulled back a little and let her eyes wander over her companion's features. His looks held none of the surface charm of a Sean or a Richard, yet there was something so soft and so gentle about his worn face she was enamoured. His unique blue eyes held her gaze with no hint of insincerity or pretence. His mouth was more sad than stern, evoking empathy.

She gave him a smile, one she realised only afterwards was serene, and let her cheek rest against his chest, breathing in his scent.

She felt his tender stroke in her hair, and knew he was kissing across the crown of her thick waves.

She relaxed further into his hold, allowing his slow seduction to spread through her completely until she was his pliant servant.

They remained silent, still ignoring their fellow dancers gyrating around them.

"Do you want to order dinner?" he asked later, so much later that she knew it was too late. They were both consumed with this erotic intimacy.

"No," her voice was a mere whisper.

"Do you want—"

"Yes," she replied before he finished posing his question. Despite their short acquaintance, this felt right, and whatever his proposition was, her answer would be 'yes'.


	6. After Dinner Drinks

Laura stepped out into the cold.

She tugged the jacket that was draped across her shoulders around her tighter. It was Bill Adama's jacket. He'd insisted she wear it, straight after he'd insisted on paying the restaurant some compensation.

"It's only a few houses up," he said, ignoring the bank of cabs and taking her arm.

He led her to the path that ran between the road and the beach. She tried not to think about the way her skin was tingling beneath the heat of his hand.

After a short walk, he guided her up a set of steps and unlocked the door to his rented house.

She followed him into a large open plan room where he flicked on some low lamps, not bothering with the overhead lighting.

Removing the jacket and her shoes, she moved to the end of the room to a set of glass bifold doors which apparently opened up onto a timber deck.

"In three days time, I need to be on Caprica for a meeting with the President," she murmured, staring out at the view of the ocean. "This isn't my reality," she added quietly.

His hands came to rest on her shoulders, lightly massaging them.

"Someone wanted it to be."

She turned and frowned up at him.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Someone put your name into a computer dating service. You had no idea I was going to be there tonight, did you?"

"No."

He smiled sadly.

"I'll get us a drink. And then I'll call you a cab."

He headed towards the kitchen, but then stopped.

Turning back, he stepped close and pulled her into his arms. He leaned down and gently brushed his lips across her forehead.

"Just remember," he whispered, "we could always make this your reality."


	7. Breakfast in Bed

Laura woke slowly, blinking around at the room, taking in her unfamiliar surroundings.

She checked the bedside clock and saw it was just past lunch time. She couldn't remember the last time she'd spent so long in bed.

As she stretched lazily, she felt a hand rest upon her hip, making her smile.

She turned to face her new lover.

"Good morning," he said, leaning over to nibble on her shoulder.

"It's afternoon, actually."

"Really? No wonder I was feeling hungry."

His mouth left her shoulder and she threaded her fingers through his thick hair as he teased her lips with gentle kisses.

"We could go back to Joe's and try his pasta," she said between quiet, fervent moans caused by where his hand was exploring. "I feel a bit guilty for not actually ordering anything last night."

"Or…we could call and see if they deliver…"

She hummed in agreement.

"Truth is, I wasn't thinking of food when I said I was feeling hungry," he confessed in a husky tone.

She snorted.

He rolled her under him and looked down at her. She liked the way he gazed at her-with such tenderness.

There'd always been something about Richard's looks that had annoyed and unsettled her; even when she'd been enjoying that first giddy flush of lust with him. She wouldn't have interpreted them as possessive exactly, however sometimes she wondered if his pursuit of her had just been an ancient caveman-like instinct. She wondered if he'd been merely attracted to the thought of her. He never knew the real Laura Roslin, after all.

"I should go back to my motel soon."

"I'll drive you. You can check out, stay here for the rest of your vacation."

She raised an eyebrow. Perhaps Bill would prove to have some caveman-like tendencies too.


	8. Posthumous Honours

Lying on her side, Laura focussed on the water's edge. Small waves were rolling up the beach, threatening to reach her towel, before they paused and slid harmlessly away, only a trace of foam and wet sand proof that they'd made it so far up the shore.

The motion was hypnotising, and she began to relax. Turning so that she lay on her stomach, she let her eyes drift closed. Her breathing slowed and deepened, her senses enjoying the pleasant tingle of the sharp salty air.

She was woken by someone rubbing sunscreen into her shoulders.

"I don't want you to burn."

She hummed in pleasure as his hands lowered to the diamond-shaped piece of skin exposed on her back.

"Bill?"

"Yeah?"

"Why'd you put your name down at the computer dating service?"

"I didn't."

She rolled over and squinted up at him. "But I thought…"

"My son set up my profile without me knowing. I went to the restaurant with the intention of politely apologising to a Ms Laura Roslin, and telling her there'd been a mistake. But…"

His finger slid to the valley of her breasts, before slowly travelling to brush across her right nipple. His light touch made it strain uncomfortably against the cup of her swimsuit.

"We should call him. And thank him."

Bill sighed and rolled onto his back beside her, staring up at the glaring sun that had at last made an appearance today.

"Bill?" she prompted, placing her palm on his chest, which was still wet from his dip in the ocean.

"He's dead. Apparently he did it before he died."

"I'm sorry."

He moved to hover above her again.

"At least I can add this-," he leaned down and kissed her, "-to the list of good things he did before he died."


	9. Mr Duplicity

Laura swiped a card across an electronic pad adjacent to the door and entered the room.

Her suitcase already sat neatly next to the closet.

The king size bed's all-white covers were turned down. A chocolate wrapped in bright coloured paper lay on each of its plush pillows. On a low table beside the bed, an impressively arranged fruit basket was placed alongside an array of ground coffees and herbal teas.

Ignoring the card attached to the basket's cellophane, she stepped out onto the balcony, immediately removing her jacket as the oppressive Caprica City humidity slapped her in the face.

A landscape of tall towers was spread out before her, the skyscrapers' lights making an impressive pattern against the dark skyline. The sound of screeching tyres and honking horns rose up from the street.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

She heard the scrunch of ice and then the distinct pop of a champagne bottle being opened.

"Why did you put my name into a computer dating service, Richard?"

"Records indicate you did that yourself."

She remained rooted to the spot, gripping the railing and staring out at the city. He wouldn't join her out in the open.

"There'd been some reporter sniffing around."

"You're the President. There'll always be reporters. What was so different this time?"

"Some piss-ant PR exec got a little too close and Mike thought it'd be a good idea."

"I'm glad Mike's around to sort out our relationship," she drawled.

"Adama was easily paid off."

This made her finally turn and step inside to face him.

"I don't believe you."

He shrugged. "There was some incident with his _Valkyrie_ command. Early retirement was suggested. Mike's pulling strings for him to be offered command of another Battlestar. _Galactica_, I believe."

She closed her eyes. It was all a lie.


	10. Body of Evidence

Laura carefully took the large plain-coloured envelope.

"These were taken four days ago, Madam Secretary."

She slid the first photograph out. It showed a bright-eyed Bill Adama drinking at a bar. There was a woman in the background wrapped around a pole. Her only clothing was a g-string.

"He was offered the _Galactica_ commission?"

"He accepted it yesterday, ma'am."

She shook out the other photographs onto her desk and poked at them with her pen. They all followed the same pattern: Bill Adama cradling a glass of alcohol while women waited topless or lap danced around him.

"And his son?"

"It's true; his son did perish in a routine Fleet training exercise about a year ago. However, I could find no records that Zachary Adama, or Adama's other son, Leland, placed his father's profile on any computer dating service in Caprica, Leonis or Picon."

"He added the profile himself?"

"Not that I could find. In fact, from my enquiries, I would very much doubt Adama would even think of such a thing. He is well-known for his complete opposition to computer use within the Fleet. Some people I spoke to joked that he's afraid of computers."

She jerked in her seat, accidentally knocking the desk.

"Madam Secretary, there's more."

"More?" she breathed, staring down at the photograph that lay at her feet. It showed Bill lying in a gutter covered with vomit.

"Adama met with Mike Sullivan two weeks prior to your vacation."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you."

Once she was alone, she opened her desk's drawer and removed the book that was the twin of the one Bill Adama had sat beside a bunch of flowers at Joe's. She slowly opened the front cover and re-read the inscription: "Laura, heard you like this author, happy birthday, Mike."


	11. Not Quite the End

Laura stood just inside the hatch of the Commanding Officer's quarters and slowly turned in a circle.

This was no sterile area which functioned merely as an office and sleeping area. She was surrounded by fine antiquities, rare curios, old masters' paintings and books - hundreds and hundreds of books.

They were piled in towers of various heights around the floor. They were spilling out of the bookcases which had originally been installed for them. Some were lying on his desk. Others were scattered across the leather of the room's long couch. Empty coffee cups and glasses used books as coasters on the side tables and chests that also furnished the room. One particular book stack in the corner of the room held a lamp.

The book had always been the most incriminating piece of evidence; proof that Bill had knowingly deceived her. Men brought flowers on dates all the time, but the casual presence of the book had convinced her to stay and have dinner with him that night. Not that they had dined.

Mike must have told him about her love for the genre and that author, she'd guessed. But now, all these books…

She physically startled when he spoke behind her.

"Madam Secretary, what can I do for you?"

He avoided her gaze when she turned to face him.

"Bill, I know things are awkward since meeting again, but the computer-"

"I won't change my mind," he snapped. "I have never trusted computers. A couple of years ago something happened to make me even more wary. You might remember what."

"But—"

"I have to change into formal attire for the ceremony. So if there is nothing else, _Madam Secretary_."

She clutched the lapel of her suit jacket and glanced down at her left breast.

"No, _Commander_. There's nothing."

The End

A/N: Yes, I always wanted this series to match up with canon and Bill's hatred of computers. Even though we know they do work it all out in the end, I did write an alternative ending which I'll post tomorrow.


	12. Happy Ending

**If you're reading this ending, you need to pretend the last part (Not Quite the End - Chapter 11) doesn't exist. Some people got confused on this point when I posted to LJ. This isn't a continuation of the fic, but an alternate ending. So, you would read from Body of Evidence, part 10 to this one.**

"How are you settling in, Mr Keikeya?" Laura asked when her new aide brought a bunch of flowers and a parcel into her office.

She took the bunch of white Leonis lilies from the young man and carefully arranged them in the vase which sat on her desk. A new bunch was delivered every Monday. The flowers were never relegated to the trash, but she did toss the attached cards into the top drawer of her desk unopened.

"Mr Keikeya sounds a bit formal," she said, pulling at the tape on the mysterious package. "Would you prefer me to call you William? Or is it Bill?" she asked, breathless at that name on her lips once more.

"Billy. My family and friends call me Billy."

The telephone buzzing saved her sigh of relief from being audible.

"It's the President, ma'am," Billy announced.

She nodded her thanks, settling back into her chair and waiting for Billy to leave before greeting Richard.

"Thursday, 3 pm," he said without any preamble.

"Excuse me?"

"We haven't been together since you returned from your vacation."

She'd feigned jetlag the night she'd returned for the Cabinet meeting. Ever since, she'd been deftly avoiding him.

She opened her diary to Thursday. At three o'clock she was scheduled to have a mammogram.

"I already have an appointment."

"Cancel."

"What?"

"Darling, you're only the Secretary of Education. I'm the President. It's more difficult for me to find time for us."

She pulled back the paper from the parcel and saw it was a book. 'Turn to page 61' commanded the yellow sticky note on the cover.

Curious, she obeyed.

She read the highlighted text.

"Laura? Laura, are you there?" Richard asked urgently when she remained mute.

Finally she spoke: "I'm cancelling. Not the appointment. Us."

Then, she hung up.

**The End! Again! Thanks for all the reviews. Will need to go through my docs and work out what to post tomorrow! LOL**


End file.
